Feeling sad and perplexed, I went to the telegraph office and sat down
at a table to write my message:
"Mother, dear, we are unhappy and forlorn; Tioka and I want to come home
and stay with you always. Please send us at once--"
I was meditating on what sum to mention, when I felt the touch of a hand
upon my shoulder. Startled, I turned, and raised my eyes. Before me
stood a man--dark, rather tall, with a brown mustache and pendulous
cheeks. Surely I knew him! Where had I seen that face before? Suddenly
there flashed into my mind the recollection of a crowded, brilliantly
lighted restaurant. I saw Vassili, amid much laughter, counting the
dark-eyed tziganes to see if one of them were missing--_Prilukoff!_ "The
Scorpion!" It was he who stood before me.
"Countess Tarnowska! Who would have dreamt of finding you here!" he
exclaimed. "What are you doing in Moscow?"
"I--I do not know," I stammered. I had in fact not infrequently asked
myself what I was doing in Moscow.
"I have heard of all your misfortunes," he said, lowering his voice, and
gazing at me sympathetically. "I have read the papers and heard all the
fuss. Come now, come," he added, "you must not weep. Let us go and have
tea at the Métropole; there we can talk together." And he took me
familiarly by the arm.